A couple of weeks ago, on the first real T-shirt day of Spring (the break in the weather was short-lived; it would chill down again for another two weeks) Sebastian and I packed a lunch and bought some worms and headed for Yellowwood Lake for the first fishing trip of the year. He had his new full-sized rod that he got for Christmas, and his catfish blood bait, also a Christmas present. He has decided that catfish will be his target species this year. We got there, we got rigged up (the rod came with an assortment of hooks and swivels and jigs and bobbers that Sebastian enjoyed putting into a little tackle box), and we got bait in the water. The bobber dipped and dragged twice but we didn't hook anything. We did enjoy our lunch and messing about in the woods and going without coats. The lake was high and muddy, not the best conditions, although we were hopeful some hungry catfish would follow their noses to the blood bait. But we broke the ice, had a successful shakedown outing, and are ready for the next opportunity. After a long winter I find I have the hope and the optimism of a six-year-old thanks to my fishing partner Sebastian.
Saturday, March 30, 2019
Monday, March 11, 2019
Saturday, March 9, 2019
A look back at a trip to Yellowwood last fall that never got posted. I reverse my loop and start by the spillway. I find some interesting lures under a popular bank fishing spot. A man and his young son will pass me later in kayaks with spinning rigs. They're new to the lake and are wondering where all the bass are. I give the lures to them hoping they might help them out. I stay close to the dam until moonrise but the fishing is slow. The evening, though, is as smooth and delicious as a good brown ale.
Tuesday, March 5, 2019
I get to Clear Creek when the cold retreats for a few days. The warmer temps bring rain and I come in just after the rain quits.
I start upstream. The river is beautiful here, obviously scoured out by the recent spate.
This is what it looked like last year. Someone must have gone in and taken the wood out.
Now there are fishable runs on both banks.
I fished both sides, but I must have gotten there before the fish after the flood. This sand bank is still under construction. I waded it, but there are still soft spots.
I waded out and headed downstream past the bridge to the long slow bend I like to fish.
I rested a minute up on the berm of the old railroad tracks where the bridge abutments stand.
Looking down I could plainly see that the flood was indeed a flood, laying down an alluvial plain of sand far up into the woods.
When I climbed down to the water I saw that the long bend was still flooded. I waded in but the soft and yielding sand all along the bank forced me to retreat.
Farther downstream I was able to lay out some casts and get some swings in, but nothing came to the fly.
I climbed the bank into the dunes and hiked back to the truck through the woods. The high water mark was a good hundred yards from the stream.
So no fish at Clear Creek again. I did find one living thing in the river: a turtle that must have ridden out the flood.
For the past few days since I was there it has been in the teens during the day and single digits at night. I hope the turtle was able to ride out the cold, too.